First Christmas in France
by mercia12591
Summary: Mary Stuart's first Christmas in France...


**FIRST CHRISTMAS IN FRANCE**

**AN ORIGIONAL HISTORICAL FANFIC FEATURING MARIE STUART AND FRANCOIS DE VALOIS**

**DISCLAIMER: **This work is mine, along with the plot. These characters are historical and in the public domain, the imagining of their personalities are mine, it has NO affiliation with any TV SHOW past or present. No part of this work may be copied, redistributed or reworked without permission of the author. NO money is being made from posting this work here…

**Author's Note: **This is a rough, unedited part of a chapter from my upcoming novel the WILD ROSE AND THE GILDED LILY.

Dedicated to the long suffering Frary Fandom.

**December 1548 – Fontainebleau, France**

Christmas had always been the Dauphin's favorite holiday, even when it consisted of nothing more than opening presents with his nanny in the nursery. He got a great many presents this time of year by virtue of the fact that his birthday fell on January 19, just a month or so after Christmas. This had also traditionally been one of the few times a year the Dauphin saw his father...

Of course since Marie first came to Court the Dauphin saw his father much more frequently, at least once a month, if not more. Francois also credited his friend for being the reason, his favorite holiday seemed all the brighter this year. Marie was certainly the reason he got to attend the Winter Festival for the very first time and the reason he learned how to build his first snowman.

She was also the reason the Dauphin was presently talking with the royal smith, of all people. He had been worried that the man would not finish in time, having commissioned a gift for Marie's birthday a few weeks ago when she was still at the convent. Now it was finally ready, and just in time too, since Marie's birthday, December 7, was the day after next.

"It's beautiful," Francois told the smith, pleased to note that the man had followed his instructions on the making of the dagger exactly, right down to the rose intertwining with the gilded lily on the silver hilt of the dagger. The dagger's silver scabbard featured the thistle on one side and the fleur de lis on the other.

"If I may say so, your Grace," the smith replied as he accepted the purse of gold, "a dagger seems rather a strange gift for a girl..."

"For any other girl perhaps," Francois said with a smug smile, "but for the Queen of Scots it is the perfect gift I assure you. My father the king and I thank you for your service."

The smith recognized that he was being dismissed and so took his leave of the Dauphin with a bow and 'a humbly your Grace...'

The man found himself thinking, as he left the small, private audience chamber and returned to his forge, that he might well miss the young dauphin, who for the past few weeks, and especially during Marie Stuart's absence from court, had come to the forge at least once a week to check on the dagger's progress. The young Dauphin had also shown marked interest in his craft and the smith could not help but feel proud.

He was glad to have met the young prince, who as it turns out, was not nearly as simple minded as most seemed to have believed, and though the boy was small and delicate for his age, the Dauphin was perfectly well proportioned and the gossips were exaggerating, as per usual.

Back in the audience chamber the king had joined his son, after unbeknownst to Francois or the smith, watching the conversation from behind a screen. He did not mean to pry, but he so wanted to watch the boy, interact with one of his future subjects. The king was gratified by what he saw, feeling his hopes for the future of France and his boy solidify as he watched his son display all the graces of elevated rank while remaining respectful.

Francois, unaware of his father's proud thoughts, was inspecting his present for Marie, holding it to the sunlight coming in through the open window, turning it this way and that, watching the light glinting off the gleaming metal surface. The Dauphin found himself suitably impressed, but he still wanted his father's opinion.

"Do you think Marie will like it, father?"

King Henry smiled to himself as he eyed the beautifully made dagger. It was as close to a work of art as the king had ever seen, but the smith may have been right in thinking it a peculiar present for a girl, then again, Marie Stuart was not your typical girl either...

"I think it is beautiful and quite unique..."

"Like Marie." Francois said, pleased with his father's approval.

"Like Marie," King Henry agreed with a smile. "I'm sure she will love it, as she loves everything we give her."

"I so wish we could give Marie her Mama for Yuletide, Father," the boy said as he slipped the dagger into its velvet pouch. "I think she misses her family..."

"I do believe her Mama misses Marie just as much, but the Lady de Guise is Queen Regent of Scotland now and there is much to do, to keep the country safe and out of the hands of those who would harm Marie and her mother..." King Henry said gently, secretly amazed at the perceptiveness of a boy who, mere months ago, was a virtual invalid. "You know what this means don't you?"

Frrancois nodded, he knew exactly what had to be done. His godmother told him. "We have to be Marie's family now," he told his father solemnly without saying where he got this idea. "We have to make her feel so at home at French Court thar she never ever wants to leave it...and so that if she ever does have to leave France will still own her whole heart..."

Francois didn't add that he had recently come to the conclusion that, as Dauphin and therefor future King of France, he was in fact, France...so if his country won Marie's heart and loyalty, it would be his as well. Francois De Valois had also recently realised that Marie Stuart's heart was the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world. He wanted it even more than the new horse his father promised him...

"You've become quite the strategist haven't you."

The little prince frowned, not quite sure what the king was saying, though there was no mistaking the pride in the man's voice, so he accepted the statement with a small shrug. "If you say so father."

It was not just Francois whose thoughts were filled with presents, Marie too was working on a present for Francois. She'd started the shirt while at the convent and was at that moment placing the finishing touches on the night-shirt of fine linen embroiled with a golden crown on top of a Fleur de Lis. The design was difficult and the stitches small and at the convent she had worked on it until her fingers bled. In the convent she used every moment she had when not doing chores or praying to work on the gift, heedless of callouses. It's funny that even though the convent could turn her from thoughts of Queenship, duty...even from her people, it never turned her thoughts from the young Dauphin she'd known only a couple of months. Now back at court she'd taken to wearing dresses with long sleeves to cover her still sore fingertips, mindful of Francois' reaction when he first saw them.

Lizzie had, of course, needled the truth out of Marie before sneaking the young queen some ointment from the chatteau apothacary. The French princess was also instrumental in keeping Marie's present to Francois a secret from her brother and Queen Catherine.

It was Lizzie who helped Marie get Francois' measurements, procuring one of the stands on which the Dauphin's clothes were hung out for the day. In their shard chambers Marie and Lizzie stood admiring the near-finished gift.

"It's beautiful Marie!" Elizabeth De Valois gasped, genuine awe in her voice as she surveyed her friend's handiwork. "My brother will love it!"

"Do you think so?" Marie asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "You don't think it's too simple?"

"Simple as opposed to golden armour, let's say?" Lizzie question shrewdly, knowing exactly what it was that had Marie questioning her choice of gift.

"Is it too late to go to the smith for a sword or..."

"Marie," Elizabeth said, her voice thick with amusement. "Surely you know there's no need to compete with Margurite of all people."

"She has golden armour." Marie said quietly, fidgeting with the folds of her dress, pinching the rich burgundy velvet between her fingers.

"Allegedly," Elizabeth pointed out reasonably, "it's just as likely she's simply talking nonsense as usual...besides, even if she does give my brother a suit of armour for Yuletide or his birthday..." 

"GOLDEN Armour," Marie reminded. The distinction was important.

"...it would in no way diminish your gift." Lizzie continued as if she hadn't heard Marie's interruption. "You are family and a friend, while Margurite is just a fawning courtier...an IRRITATING fawning courtier." She smiled at Marie. "That social climber could give my brother a thousand golden suits of armour and it would not sway him in the slightest..."

Lizzie had barely finished speaking when the two girls heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, coming towards their chambers. "That's Francois!" Marie exclaimed wide-eyed as she grabbed a sheet to cover the hanger and the shirt. "Help me will you, we can't let him see it now. It would ruin the surprise!"

"You can't possibly tell that it's Francois coming just by the sound of his footsteps." Lizzie remarked, even as she took the edge of the sheet, which Marie was tangling everywhere in her haste, and helped her friend cover the present.

"Of course I can, he's wearing those buck-skin boots he likes so much, they always make that sound on the marble."

LIzzie looked at her doubtfully, but Marie was adamant and sure enough, a very short time later Elizabeth De Valois heard her brother outside the door of their apartments, asking the page whether she or Marie was present. By the time the Dauphin was announced the present was fully covered with the two girls waiting in the small 'audience room'.

Francois greeted both his sister and the Queen of Scots with a polite kiss on the cheek, before asking wether they would like to join him for a horseback ride in the park. Ever since he had finally gotten permission to ride he could hardly get enough of the activity, Marie too loved to ride and it was one of the activities they enjoyed together at Saint-Germain in the few weeks before Marie left for the convent.

Lizzie could ride, of course, as to do so was somewhat of a prerequisite for royal children, but she did not enjoy the activity nearly as much as her brother and her best friend. "Why don't the two of you go," she suggested to Marie with an encouraging smile.

"You're sure?" Marie asked. She really wanted to go with Francois, but she did not want Lizzie to feel left out.

"Quite. I have some letters to write, but I will join the two of you at dusk for a ride on the canal if that's alright?"

"But of course sister," Francois replied gallantly. "We look forward to your company."

A few minutes later LIzzie watched Marie and Francois walk off together, with the Dauphin holding the Queen of Scots lightly by the wrist, so as to avoid causing discomfort to the young Queen's still sensitive fingers, she imagined. Her brother, she was beginning to realize, was fiercely protective of those he cared about. She wondered how he would react once he learned the reason for Marie's sore fingers.

Her brother, her sickly and up until recently, often overlooked, little brother had managed somehow to win the favour, friendship and fierce loyalty of Marie Stuart. So much so that the stubborn, independent creature, who in her few short months at French Court had turned everything on it's head and who was a Queen in her own right, seemed quite content to go wherever the Dauphin led. Never was this more evident than in this moment as Lizzie Valois watched her friend trotting happily alongside Francois, making no attempt to free the wrist still gently encircled by his slender, delicate fingers.

Her brother had never led anyone anywhere and it was perhaps the height of irony, that just as their mother's womb quickened once more with life, life many had hoped might lead to a more 'suitable' heir for the French Throne, her brother decided to rise to his birthright.

Lizzie smiled at the thought that no courtier would dare call her brother the 'runt of the litter' ever again, not that they ever dared say it to Francois' face, or hers for that matter, but she knew well that is what some princes of the blood called her brother in private. Arrogant, greedy bastards the lot of them, all vying for the French Throne and jealous of the true heir. Lizzie De Valois' smile grew bigger as she watched her brother and the Queen of Scots disappear from sight.

Her brother was having the last laugh now because for once those arrogant pretenders envied him, Marie Stuart was shaking up the French Court and changing more lives than the little Queen would ever guess, and Lizzie could not be happier.

"This is not the way to the stables, Francois," Marie pointed out as they entered the chatteau's vast courtyard, but despite the fact that she could see that he was leading her away from the stables instead of toward them, it did not occur to the usually obstinate and willful girl to break free of the Dauphin's lead. "You're going the wrong way," she tried again, but remained dutifully beside him nonetheless.

"We are not going to the stables." Francois said.

"But you invited me for a ride," Marie reminded, "how are we supposed to ride without horses?"

"We aren't going riding. I only said that so Lizzie would not try to come along..."

"Francois, that's mean!" Marie chided, stopping dead in her tracks and bringing Francois to an immediate halt as well.

He turned to look at her. "I wasn't trying to be mean. I have a secret to tell you and I couldn't do that with Lizzie around, besides, she'll be joining us for the boat ride on the canal remember?"

Marie nodded, feeling better, besides Francois had the best secrets and she felt very honored secretly that she was the one he chose to share them with. She never had a brother her own age or someone to share secrets with. Not even the four Mary's, but now she had Francois and he was the best brother and the very best friend ever!

"Do you still want to come with me?" Francois' gentle question broke through her reverie and she smiled, and held out her arm to him once more, all hesitation forgotten. She may be a queen, but Francois Valois was the first person who ever bothered to ask her what she wanted, who gave her a choice. Despite her elevated status few people ever bothered to ask her opinion or her preference regarding her future, but Francois did. It wasn't just a token question either, because the few times she felt like doing something other than what he had planned, he had respected her wishes without complaint. Maybe that was why she felt like she could follow him anywhere...

He took her wrist, but instead of walking on he brought her right hand up for inspection. "They seem to be healing..."

"Yes," Marie said blushing a little, "the ointment your sister got really helps..."

"I am glad," he said and then they were walking again.

"Marie wasn't sure what she was expecting, but when they seemingly reached their destination she could not contain her surprise. "The Forge?"

"Indeed, I know the owner," the Dauphin replied with a slight boyish smile which had Marie beaming in return.

If the young Queen of Scots had been surprised by the visit to the forge, the smith was no less so, but the man had enough presence of mind to take the surprise visit from the royal children in his stride. In watching the Dauphin show the young queen around the forge the smith was somewhat surprised to realise just how closely the boy had been paying attention on his solo visits to the forge these last few months.

The smith also realised that the Dauphin was right in his assumption that Marie would love her gift. It was made very evident as the girl admired a set of newly finished bejeweled daggers, none of them as fine as the Dauphin's offering, and from the smugly pleased smile on his face it was clear that the Dauphin had noticed her interest as well...

"You haven't told me the reason for our visit to the smith," Marie reminded him a little later as she sat in the shade of a huge oak. He had taken her riding after all, following their visit to the forge, and they'd ended up at the secret sanctuary Francois had shared with her a few weeks before. She could see why he loved this crumbled, overgrown church, seemingly in the middle of wild nature and she found herself loving it as well.

"I thought you might like it," he told her, sitting beside her.

"And I did," Marie assured him, "I just got the sense that there was, perhaps more to our visit than a simple tour of the royal forge."

"You told me that at the convent you learned to cut peat and milk goats," Francois said slowly.

"Yes," Marie said, blushing slightly, "not the most lady-like pursuits for a queen, but..."

"Did you enjoy it?"

She hesitated a brief instant before answering truthfully, "yes, very much, more than I probably should have. Why?"

"When you where gone I spend a lot of time at the forge, watching the smith at work, It made me realise I want to learn a craft..." 

"Like smith-craft?" Marie asked surprised.

"Yes, why not."

"I believe you are capable of anything you set your will and your mind to," Marie assured him, "but how do you plan to get past your father...and let's not even mention your mother!"

"I figure what they don't know won't hurt them..."

"Marie opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, seeming to consider."Well even if you could keep this new pursuit of yours a secret from your parents...and even if you could there's the rest of French Court to consider. Then you'll still have to find a smith equal part brave and stupid enough to train you and to risk the wrath of the king and queen of France in the process..."

"What if I told you I already found a smith willing to train me?" Francois' smile was rather smug.

"Not the smith I just met, surely?"

"No, of course not, roping the Royal Smith into this would be a little too reckless." Francois gave her a smile. "My godmother has...connections and she knows a smith who is not averse to taking me on as an apprentice."

"And this smith knows that you are the Dauphin of France?"

"He does." 

"This will not be easy Francois," Marie warned, "If your parents ever caught wind of it..."

"They won't." 

Marie eyed her friend doubtfully. She did not doubt his determination or his ability to master the craft he had chosen, not for a moment. It was the secret and keeping it in an atmosphere as rife with gossip as the French Court that daunted her. Keeping even a small secret was difficult enough, with idle aristocratic women who had nothing but time sniffing around for the slightest whiff of scandal and intrigue to enliven their vapid days. A secret of the magnitude Francois was suggesting would be very near impossible to manage.

She started to tell him so, but stopped when she saw the excitement and determination in his blue eyes, eyes which at this moment was as blue as a cloudless summer's day.

"I'll help you in anyway I can," she heard herself say. "I'm not sure how much help I can be in this, but you have my full support."

Francois smiled his thanks at her, having never doubted her support for an instant.

In the days that follows the shared secret only served to strengthen the bond between the two children and amid the excitement surrounding Marie's birthday and the lavish ball King Henry was throwing in honor of it, Francois periodic absence from court were hardly noticed. But the truth was that even if the courtiers and the royal nannies were not so preoccupied with the coming ball, Francois doubted he would've been missed.

Apparently his godmother was very good at keeping people oblivious and making them see only what she wanted them to see. Francois really hadn't needed to let Marie in on this particular secret, but he wanted to. It was no fun keeping things from his best friend, so he'd let her in on the secret, secure in the knowledge that she would never tell anyone.

The night of Marie's birthday ball arrived and for Francois the highlight of the evening was getting to dance with Marie, she looked beautiful in a dress of blue silk which shimmered and sparkled in the light of the chandeliers. Dancing with his best friend was even better than seeing Marie's face when he presented his present to her. The little queen's face when the dagger was revealed was a picture of awed surprise followed by delight.

She thanked him for the gift with a shy kiss on the cheek, after first stealing a glance toward Queen Catherine who for the moment is deep in conversation with one of her ladies. Later, tucked up in his bed in the royal nursery, Francois decides that this night is the happiest of his life...

The days that follow, leading up to Yule, are equally happy with the children being given a break from their lessons, enabling the two best friends to spend even more time together. King Henry, for his part, assures that Marie never has a dull moment, all is parties, gaiety and laughter, decadence and excess and soon, very soon Marie forgets the convent where she staye for a few monnths as well as her brief ambition to be a nun.

That Yuletide becomes the most fondly remembered at French Court in decades, and most everyone gets caught up in the festivities. Even Queen Catherine who liked to consider herself above such thins found herself swept up in it that year. She was content for once, revelling in her steadily growing belly, round and ripe with her husband's seed, and though her pregnancy had not led to Diane de Portier's banishment from court, the Queen of France considered herself fortunate and very blessed indeed that her husband visited her more regularly now. She knew deep down that her position was more secure now that it had been in years.

This knowledge coupled with a brief respite from the stress she's been living under, caused Catherine de Medici to, for a brief time, treat even the young Queen of Scots with considerably more warmth. Catherine still did not believe that Marie was the right wife for her son or a suitable queen for France, but she was a smart woman. Smart enough to know that Henry had won the first round and at that particular moment she felt just magnanimous enough to concede the victory...for now.

Rome stood behind the betrowal for now, as did Scotland, but a lot could change in six years. Henry may have won the first battle, but she would win the war. Catherine was a de Medici after all...and they never lost. Such were Catherine's thoughts on Yuletide eve as she walked past the private chapel adjacent to the royal nursery. The Queen of France stop dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her.

Kneeling in the chapel, two pairs of tiny knees resting on red velvet cushions and two pairs of hands clasped in devout prayer, Catherine watched as Marie and Francois prayed, kneeling side by side, looking for all the world like a husband and wife taking prayers together.

The Queen of France felt a chill run down her spine at the thought as a sense of destiny, of fate, come over her, but she shook her head, no she was just being ridiculous...Marie Stuart would never be Queen of France and she would certainly never marry Francois...

But as Catherine de Medici turned away from the sight of the two young children, it seemed for a moment that the icy wind howling outside the castle walls on this December night, as it littered the ground with an ever deepening layer of snow, had somehow penetrated the thick stone walls to enter her body and freeze the blood in her veins with a sense of foreboding she could not shake.

But Catherine de Medici was not the only witness to the children's Yuletide prayers and she failed to notice her companion witness, had she noticed the shimmering Lady in White within the hallways of Fontainebleau she might have been a great deal more disturbed than she already was.

Then again Isabelle Le Faye was well used to concealing her presence when she did not wish to be seen, which was most of the time. Besides this was not a night for fear, it was a night for hope and so she allowed Catherine to shake off the feeling of uneasiness for the moment and continue on in blissful ignorance as Isabel continued her vigil of the two royal children.

The beautiful woman smiled, just a little sadly, as the children finished their prayer, Francois reaching for his friend's hand instinctively to pull her into a standing position. "This is the best Christmas ever, Marie." Francois told the girl with hair the color of a candle-flame and she smiled back at him her blue eyes sparkling.

"I know, I hope we can spend every Christmas together from now on..."

"We can, of course we can," the Dauphin assured her with a confidence only to be found in the very young. "I'll be with you every Christmas for the rest of my life..."

Isabelle Le Fay felt a single, tear slide down a pearly-white cheek at the thought of what would be. But she wiped it away, reminding herself that this was not a night for sadness and despair. It was a night for hope and promises, for love and laughter...

And as Marie and Francois went charging after one another, their giddy, childish laughter echoing off ancient stones, the White Lady faded away like mist before the rising sun. There'd be time enough for sadness...another Yuletide eve and a grieving young widow...

But not tonight...not yet. Tonight was a night for bright dreams of even brighter futures. A night of endless possibilities, for this night signalled the return of a Light in the darkness...


End file.
